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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28620276">The Mistletoe Mission</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hqprotectionsquad/pseuds/hqprotectionsquad'>hqprotectionsquad</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!! One Shots [34]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Christmas, Christmas Party, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Mistletoe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:07:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,276</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28620276</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hqprotectionsquad/pseuds/hqprotectionsquad</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>NO party at the country club goes without you crashing it, despite your friend’s job being on the line every time. This time, you’ve hit a jackpot — and no, it’s not a funeral; thank goodness — it’s a physical therapy company Christmas party where you’ve decided to wine and dine on their dollar.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ennoshita Chikara/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!! One Shots [34]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1702609</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Mistletoe Mission</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello! I am cross-posting my content from tumblr (charmingchikara) to this AO3 account. I no longer post from my old tumblr, hqprotectionsquad. I hope you all enjoy! If you liked this one shot, please leave a comment or kudos!</p><p>— This one-shot is 6+ months in the making! I started it at the end of June and I just finished it now (January). Crazy, but worth it! I’m happy with the end result. Of course, it’s another fake-dating trope (one of my faves), I should have a few more fake-dating fics to come. I hope you all enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Are you sure you can't get me any more information on this party?” You tug on your friend’s white dress shirt. To your left is a grand staircase, made of tortoise-colored marble. To your right is the largest mirror you've ever laid your eyes on. Below you is a perfectly waxed floor, one that makes a perfect clicking sound when you tap the bottom of your heel on it. Above you is a glimmering chandelier that you are certain is made of custom-made glass.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Hey, lay off the shirt. My boss gets upset seeing the tiniest wrinkle.” He swipes at your stray fingers. “You're lucky I'm supporting your little hobby because it's Christmas and everyone hosts their party here.”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“I know, but can you please at least tell me if my attire is okay? For all I know, I'll be walking into a funeral celebration full of elderly people.” You pout, trying to convince him the best you can. Behind his head lies doors that lead to the beyond, whatever that’ll be.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“I don't know myself because I’m not working that party. I keep my nose clean,” he glares at you when you spare him a look. “I do, okay? I wouldn't be able to get your bored self into parties if I weren't a good worker.” Looking down at his wrist, your friend smooths out the fabric on his bicep. “Speaking of which, if I want to maintain that, I’ll have four minutes to clock in.” He’s already on the move when he yells back, “Let me know how it goes later, babe!”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>With a deep sigh, you turn towards the mirror, taking in the reflection of everything in this deserted lobby. While your face looks fine—well, who are you kidding, even better than fine, but nothing like a few swipes of red across your lips won't hurt. Everything seems so much larger when you're by yourself, which spurs you even further to summon your courage and walk through those doors.</p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>No one is staring you down as you walk in, so you approach the RSVP table with newfound confidence. There are tacky snowflakes hanging onto the walls and miniature Christmas trees for centerpieces. You have to give props to your best friend; at least you didn’t walk into a bachelor’s party. Looking down at this notebook, you trace your finger down the paper, to see if you could find out anything from this. Some of the written names have a random set of letters that follow, but you wouldn’t quite know what they mean and you don’t want to keep loitering around like an idiot.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You do the next best thing: head right over to the bar. They say you can tell a lot about a person from how they treat the bartenders and what they order. As you approach the set-up, you take a seat, taking it all in. Some geriatrics on the dance floor, shimmying to a 70s hit. You know there are a few people who are multiple offenders of the dinner buffet by the looks of their small stacks of dishes off the side of their main course.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hi. Can I get you a drink?” There’s a man sitting two chairs over, looking in your direction. His chin is pointed towards you and while his eye shape seems a little on the south side, something tells you that’s not the only thing that contributes to his tired appearance.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What, it’s not open bar?” You quip with a brow raised.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It is,” he says, knowing you saw right through him, but it doesn’t let that bother him. “Just wanted to see if maybe you’d join me. My name’s Ennoshita.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sure.” You slip out of the chair and move closer to him. “Can I have a shaken martini, straight up?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>If he’d been impressed by the bar talk, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he says, “I haven’t seen you around the office before. Are you a new secretary at the other branch?” He slowly sips on the beer he’s been nursing for God knows how long. The ice seems to already have melted and the remains float above the beer.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Um, why don’t we talk about you first? After all, you invited me over to sit closer. What do you do in the company?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh, I’m a physical therapist at the Ishinomaki branch.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Do you like it there?” You’re trying not to slip out any indications that you have no idea what he’s talking about, but with a quick glance to your left, you realize that this is a company Christmas party. You snatch the cocktail list, noting the description at the top congratulates the hard workers of the now merged branches of Ishinomaki and Ōsaki. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You recompose yourself and while he doesn’t really say much about his profession, you chuckle at the list after studying it. “These are all medical based cocktails.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Good eye.” He nods. “So I’m assuming you didn’t know why we hosted this party right? Or rather, you’re not with the company and you’re just crashing?” He accuses with a straightforward tongue, but it’s not like he appears slighted. Ennoshita has the same expression he had when you first ordered your martini: drained but not distressed, affected but not impressed.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t know, what’s it to you?” A quick sip of the martini—made well, by the way—before you laugh. “Are you going to call me out for it?” You lean in close and he stands his ground. Interesting.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“A pretty woman like you can get her way into anything.” He looks right into your eyes as he leans his body over the bar counter. “Seeing as you’re drinking on the company budget, it shouldn’t be a big deal.” He doesn’t say anything else.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>If he was being candid, you think that it might be okay to act in the same way as well. “In that case, no. I walked in without knowing what kind of party this is. Just wanted to drink and eat a little bit for free.” No one else has interacted with you beside him and the bartender. The bartender is on the other end of the counter, assisting a couple of older men asking for single malts. Ennoshita, on the other hand, looks at you with an intent stare. “Tell me more about yourself.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why don’t you?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Malice doesn’t become you well,” you scold lightly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“How would you know? After all, you’ve admitted that you don’t know any of us, and you didn’t know what company was hosting this party.” He has placed his pieces to knock you into a checkmate.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Alright.” Tipping your glass towards your lips, the alcohol quenches your physical thirst, but there’s a different kind of thirst that still needs to be satisfied. “Maybe you’ll get my name if this conversation heads in a different direction. Though, I’m sure I can give it away to another person out here; this party doesn’t seem as boring as a funeral service.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Saying that from experience?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I could be.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, I’m certainly not stopping you from moving on to another man out there. The tables are full of older men or younger men, whoever you happen to be interested in. Balding middle-aged men are common in the company if that’s what you’re looking for.” Something tells you that these sparks spewing from his lips can burst into flames right on you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You wonder how far a little black dress can take you. Every time you slip it on and walk through a set of doors, the risks and expectations increase. It might not seem so, but anxiety paces up and down your spine, and slowly inches up your chest. Why do you even do this if you know this happens? </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’s all for the thrill, you conclude after reflecting. “Do you think we could get out of here?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And miss out on the prizes they’re handing out towards the end of the party? You might be able to win a new television.” Is he begging you to stay? No. Even if you’ve known him for all of an hour, this must be his subtle way of asking you to stay, but he wouldn’t be on his knees to kiss your hands. “Something seems to be on your mind.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Before you can say anything, a man saunters up behind you and Ennoshita. “Ennoshita, is that a girlfriend? I didn’t know you had one!” This man is tied up in his tuxedo with a full drink in his hand. He grins, probably knowing that he interrupted this conversation by butting his way in. By the looks of Ennoshita and his scrunched eyebrows, he laughs. “Nice to meet you, I’m Takeshi.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Takeshi lazily puts a hand out for you to shake and you tentatively reach out and wrap your hand around his. It’s sweaty. You pull back gently and turn your head to look at Ennoshita. You grin. Before he protests any of the statements, you begin speaking for the both of you.  “We just started going steady, I’m so proud of everything he’s done for the company, you know?” You slip a hand into Ennoshita’s, who looks more than shocked by your advances.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Right,” he adds with an unsure tone. He shifts in his attitude when he swallows the dry air in his throat. As if he’s regained all the resolve he’s lost, he sits up to align his spine. “If you’ll excuse us.” Ennoshita blazes past his coworker, with you following behind him. When you take a peek back, Takeshi is still by the counter, wading in the dust left behind.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Now you’re on the dance floor, Ennoshita holding you tight against his body. The certain hold he has against your back is comforting to say the least. “Is this okay?” He asks, dipping his head toward your ear. “I’m really sorry for taking it out of hand. That guy just pisses me off to no end. He always wants to one-up me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I could see that.” Your lips pull into a grin as you sway along to the dulcet tones of jazz music. The notes dance in the air above you and you think that maybe something’s going right on this day after Christmas. “This is a really unconventional first date, I’ve got to say. My name is (Y/N), by the way. I haven’t told you yet.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“My name is Chikara.” The song draws to a close, but that doesn’t prompt Chikara to let you go. He’s more than content to have your hand in his, your body pressed up on his. His chin tucks in toward his chest so that it’s by your shoulder and the fingers on his hand close in on yours. You’re lucky, aren’t you? Even if you had a way of predicting the future, you would not have expected to be twirled on the dance floor of a venue you crashed just because you had nothing to do that night.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Soon enough, you settle down at a table because the back of your ankle is now an angry red from the heels you’ve been wearing. Ennoshita makes light conversation with the men and women who sit around the table. While tonight is the first time you’ve met him, it’s clear that he can be a relaxed man as well as be fired up. When introducing you to the rest of the group, Ennoshita hesitates. “This is (Y/N), my, um, girlfriend.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There’s a flurry of reactions, ranging from “Wow, you’re so pretty!” to “How did you two meet?” and it feels good to feel all of these emotions. To be wanted and accepted, even by people you don’t know, is flattering. More importantly, seeing Ennoshita keep the act up despite crashing the company’s party warms your heart. If anything bad happened, this would fall upon Ennoshita, if you’re thinking frankly. Looking at him in the corner of your eye, his small smile on top of his red cheeks brings a grin on your own face.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We’ve only been dating for a month now,” you slip into the conversation when you see Ennoshita deflecting questions that continue to pile on. Slathering filler words is key for fake relationships and you’re doing an amazing job of that. It’s all smooth like butter. “But he insisted that I come to the party.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yep, that’s right.” You don’t know what kind of guy he is, and you don’t know what kind of person he was up until a few hours ago. He wrings out his hands as you converse with his co-workers as if you’ve known them for a while. During a break in the chat, you look at him. His teeth nibble on his lip before he adds his laughter to the rest when one of the girls tells a joke.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Is everything okay?” This might be going over boundaries, but you decide to take the risk and curl your hands underneath his hands on his lap. Your fingers squeeze tentatively before sliding them into place between his. Color returns to his face, something you’re grateful for since his complexion has been paling consistently since being at this table.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah, I’m okay.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Do you want to get a breather?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That would be nice.” You take the liberty of excusing yourselves from the table, leading him by the hand you never let go of since beginning to hold it. Soon enough, you are where you started at the beginning of the night, staring at a reflection that you no longer comprehend. That’s a different woman, standing shoulder to shoulder with a man. Your eyes trace your features: humid hair from being inside, the eyebrows that arch over your eyes, and your nose in the center of your face. Your fingers trace over the lines in your palms, trying to siphon the welcoming warmth when you held his hand.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Too much?” You ask without taking your eyes off the mirror, except now, you’re watching his every move beside you. When he notices, his gaze drops to the flowers on the table and turns to lean on the surface.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He loosens the knot of his red tie before responding. “Maybe just a little.” Ennoshita admits and purses his lips into a line. “Before you say anything, it doesn’t have anything to do with an ex-girlfriend.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I wasn’t going to say that.” The roll of his eyes prompts you to continue, “Alright, maybe I was thinking it. Wanna talk about it?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“With a stranger?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You shush him. “Don’t let your coworkers hear that,” you warn with a few laughs. “They do say that it’s easier to talk to someone who doesn’t know anything about you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He doesn’t agree, but he shoots right into his spiel, “I just think it’s funny how I was lying the whole time, and my coworkers were eating it up. I guess they don’t really know me either.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, who really knows you but yourself?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I wish I knew myself well. You seem to, though. At least one of us does.” He exhales, slumping his shoulders with the jacket coming down with him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“If I knew myself well enough, I wouldn’t be mooching off of my best friend.” When Ennoshita furrows his brows, you take this as a sign to continue. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but the reason why I walked into your company’s party tonight is because I come every few weeks and try to see what kind of fun I can get into. It’s usually fun, unless I get into a funeral reception.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>All Ennoshita can do is nod. “I wasn’t really expecting that, but hey, power to you.” This is a moment where he wishes he had something to hold onto, like a bottle of beer, so he doesn’t feel out of balance. What is he doing here with a complete stranger? “I guess I feel like I’m in over my head. Trying hard for people who don’t know me, but still, I feel like I’m stuck on the outside regardless of how hard I try.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Do you feel better that you pretended I was your girlfriend, or worse?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Worse.” He quickly adds, “No offense.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You shake your head. “None taken. Do you feel better now that you’re sort of talking about it? I hear talking about things with strangers is a lot better than talking to people who seem to know you the best.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I actually do, so thank you.” When you try to protest, Ennoshita shrugs off his coat and shakes his head. “Well, if there’s at least one thing I have to thank you for tonight, it’ll be getting me away from my co-workers.” He doesn’t say anything more, and he looks like the type that even if you prompted him, he would zip his lips shut.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There’s something intriguing about this man. Maybe it’s the fact that you have no clue about him. The fact that he could’ve been lying this whole time and the only thing truthful about him was his name and occupation. Despite all this, you still want to know the parts of him that make him Ennoshita Chikara. “I guess we’re just two people in places we don’t fit into,” you whisper with a chuckle. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t think that’s a bad thing,” he whispers back, taking a step closer to you, and you have a glimpse of where he’s going with this. There’s a part of you that wants to shy away and look down at the shine on his shoes, but you challenge it, taking solace in his gaze. It’s uncomfortable, but right.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>For a moment, you break the silent contest, your eyes leading you to the hanging leaves above your head. “It’s mistletoe.” You wouldn’t have been able to spot it otherwise; the small plant was hanging fairly high and keeping the company of the chandelier.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I was going to kiss you regardless, but at least now I have a proper excuse,” he mutters before pressing his lips to yours. It’s a searing sensation, the one you get when you kiss a new person for the first time. Slightly chapped, but it’s something you can work with. As you lace your fingers together behind his neck, Chikara’s instinct is to explore the dips of your sides with the pads of his fingers splaying out. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Quite the first kiss” is the first thing you say after you separate from him. Already moments after and you wish you hadn’t stopped.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>After that, he kisses you again, once, twice, and a third time before responding, “What can I say, I don’t want to disappoint under the pressure of the mistletoe,” but his cheeks bloom muted roses under the eyes that don’t reach yours. “You didn’t leave anything back there, did you?” His hands swoop into the sleeves of his coat and he adjusts the lapels in the way that makes you swoon.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, we can head out,” you say, answering what was on his mind.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yours or mine?” Ennoshita asks, the words slipping off his tongue before he could pull them back in. “Well, I live alone, so I’ll take you to mine.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Good choice. I live with two roommates. They’d be thrilled to see a hunk like you walk through our door. They’d probably want to steal you off me.” Chikara shakes his head at your phrasing, but he offers his elbow for you to loop your arm into.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You do this often?” When you turn your head, his laugh floats into the atmosphere, hanging there for a second before dropping. “Bring people home, I mean.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, but you make a sweet exception.”</p>
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